would not have mattered. Who would notice a plain girl like me? And, besides "—and I laughed scornfully-"authoresses are always allowed to be eccentric, and sublimely disregardful of conventional etiquette and proprieties. They cannot afford to be too particular." "That, my dear," returned Miss Joanna, in her calmest tone, "is quite a mistake, and no one knows it better than yourself. It is because you are so womanly a woman that my sister and I, and other friends, care for you so much. I am not afraid, in spite of your little remark, that you will ever be unsexed by authorship. But may I ask who might be your companion ?"

Mr. Vere."

"Ah, yes! Very kind of him; why did he not come over and see us, though ?"

"I really do not know. Stay! I think he said he had an engagement on the other side of Easthambury."

"Very likely; he is a busy person. John Vere is no cumberer of the ground. He finds his work, and does it. I sometimes wonder whether he will live very long!"

What?"

"I sometimes think it will be a case of the sword wearing out the scabbard. He is not particularly strong; he inherits, I fancy, a little of his mother's delicacy, and he has no notion of sparing himself. Then his home is one of the very dreariest; you cannot fancy a sterner, colder father than Mr. Vere, senior. Have you ever seen him ?"

"No; I have heard Mrs. Sutherland say he has some peculiar notions."

"Peculiar, indeed! Altogether, I should fear poor John has a sad life of it. I really believe Mr. Vere thinks he is doing his duty when he crosses him in every inclination. I should be heartily glad to hear that John was going to be married, if Helena Bertram were older. I should say there is something to be hoped for in that direction."

I said nothing, but looked steadily into the fire. Of course I had no right to reveal John's secret even to a mutual friend. Then I tried to change the conversation, and I began to talk about Mrs. Damer, and the anemone show that was forthcoming, and the auriculas at Beechwood, and a lecture on the antediluvian world, to be delivered by Mr.. Rushton to the Young Men's Christian Assosiation, and with a very indifferent show of success I did my best to appear interested. in the topics I introduced. At last Miss Joanna said—

"My dear Evelyn, do not teaze yourself any longer with thinking on one subject, and talking upon others. Do you know that you have gravely informed me that there is to be an anemone show in the Wellington-street schoolrooms, connected with the Early Closing Movement, and that Mrs. Damer purposes lecturing on Mr. Rushton to the antediluvian world ?"

Surely I did not say anything so foolish?"

"You said something very much like it! Now, my dear, be quiet; you are far from well; I advise your going to bed at once, and being treated for cold and incipient feverish symptoms; to-morrow morning you will be yourself again."

"You are right, I had better go to bed; I am quite too stupid to afford anyone the slightest entertainment to-night. Will you kindly make my excuses to Miss Capel ?"

"Of course I will. Undress yourself and get into bed, and I will bring you up a basin of arrowroot of my own preparation; then you will go to sleep, and be as fresh as a lark in the morning. A pretty thing that you should run away from us for so long, and then come back an invalid!"

When Miss Joanna returned I had obeyed her behests, and was ready for the arrowroot, upon which she had expended the utmost care and skill; but when I tried to take the first spoonful, a sick faintness came over me, and I pushed away the tray, and declared that I should be better without any supper. But in an authoritative way, quite her own, Miss Joanna seized upon the rejected arrowroot, and began vigorously to scold.

"Evelyn, don't be ridiculous! If you do not immediately take what is good for you, I shall think you are sickening for a fever, and I shall call in Mr. Wilson without an hour's delay. That you really have taken cold is apparent; but that something is vexing and paining you very much is apparent also. Nay, do not look angry and indignant; it is the truth, and you know it. You refused dinner on the plea of a hearty lunch before leaving Beechwood; you will not hear of taking tea, and now you are quarrelling with the most sensible supper you can possibly have. If you really wish to induce positive illness, you are going about it in a tolerably scientific way. First of all, you go promenading on the pier, on a dreary, sunless day, with the wind in the east; naturally you take cold, and begin to sneeze; next you indulge in fretting, whether reasonable or not, I cannot tell; and last, you choose to fast and weaken your physical forces, which undoubtedly have considerable influence over your state of mind. Now, open your mouth and swallow this spoonful of arrowroot, like a sensible girl, as 1 take you to be."

Thus addressed, and the arrowroot actually at my lips, I had no choice; and as obediently as the good, kind spinster could have wished, I took my supper, and really felt all the better for it. Then she tucked me up, and kissed me, as if I were veritably the child she had called me; but after she had turned out the gas, she came once more to the bed-side, and said, "Evelyn, I see very clearly that something has happened which distresses you exceedingly. I do not, of course, ask you what it is; I have not the right to question you, or to annoy you

with my own guesses at the truth; more than that, there are some confidences which it is best never to make to anyone; there are some cases which it is wise to keep always to ourselves some sources of pain which we do well never to talk about. Therefore, my dear, I only beg you to remember that what happens is always for the best, and also to bear in mind that

"The darkest day,

Live till to-morrow, will have passed away."

Youth is apt to fancy a great sorrow to be eternal. No such thing! all our, miseries wear themselves out with time, and the less we nurse them the sooner they will lose their power. Now go to sleep; things seen over-night look differently in the light of the new day. Goodnight!"

And, strange to say, I went to sleep before the rest of the household had retired, and slept on heavily and dreamlessly till the light of early morning shone into my room, and the fingers of my watch were pointing to half-past five.

Then I began to think-to review what had happened, and to consider my position; and the result of my meditations were soon expressed in a good scolding of my own unfortunate self. Are you not ashamed of yourself, Evelyn Charteris," I exclaimed, "to give way in this foolish, sentimental style, as if you were a silly, love-sick school-girl? What is the use of moaning and vaporising in this fashion? You love John Vere-love him as he deserves to be loved, with all the force and intensity of your nature; but he is far too good for you, and you know it! He loves you as his friend, so be content; it is better to be his friend than the best-beloved of another. Be worthy of his friendship, his regard; above all things be worthy of yourself, of your womanhood; never let him for one moment suspect the foolish passion you have presumed to entertain." But there I paused: was it a foolish passion? was there anything weak and foolish in loving such a man as John Vere? I thought not; and, moreover I knew, that such a love as mine, entertained for so worthy an object, must last for life. What, then, remained? Must I, perforce, be miserable, because the one ardently-desired blessing was withheld? must I join the ranks of that sad sisterhood whom the world, with its cold pity, speaks of as "disappointed?" Must I in future live a cheerless, aimless life-my great hope removed, and my chief desire for ever unfulfilled? Must I settle down into a reserved, testy, self-concentrated spinster?

No! a thousand times no! My heart rebelled at the bare notion of a life that seemed so little removed from that of a vegetable. What if God had ordained that my life must be, in one respect, solitary and unshared! What if He, who knows so much better than we know ourselves what is best for our unchastened, undisciplined natures, had

seen fit to refuse that greatest of all terrestrial blessings-what then? God never intended any sorrow to make us irremediably miserable. He never meant that any one of His creatures should go mourning all his days, because in the spring-time, or in the early summer of his years, some great grief fell upon him, that darkened his way, and turned his joy to weeping. In the time to come, we may know even here why the trial was sent, and we may live to see the wisdom of the dispensation that cut down our blooming gourds, and laid low our dearest hopes; if not, we shall certainly know yonder, in that better world, where the veil is withdrawn, and we know even as we are known. Therefore, sorrowful child of earth, be patient, be content to take on trust the promises of God; rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him; question not the dealing of His providence-as well might yonder new-born babe question the wisdom of its sage and experienced father-only submit yourself cheerfully to that which is laid upon you: a cross you must have, if you would be a child; and you cannot choose your cross, you can only take it up, and so taking it up it will lose much of its heaviness. Have faith, knowing that all things, however seemingly adverse are "ordered." Hope always, pray always, work always, and when life's task is fully done, you will look back and say-" All was well; my life has been a happy life, now shall it be made complete!"

Afterwards I began to think of my temporal prospects. I had left Lady Paraiba with expectations that were now no more; should I be compelled to return to my governess-life? I hoped not-I ardently hoped not. My literary prospects were fast brightening; if I could only tide my fortunes over the next few months, I saw no reason why 1 might not honourably and safely depend upon my writing for comfortable support. I counted up my present resources, and I found that I might, without imprudence, remain at Abbeylands for at least six months more, and by that time I doubted not but that fresh funds would be available; for I meant to work steadily and painstakingly, and in the spirit in which I now felt all literary effort ought to be undertaken. And then that other task which I had, perhaps, very rashly undertaken the formation, or rather the improvement, of Helena Bertram's character. Perhaps I had really pledged myself to that which I had neither the capacity nor the strength to perform; perhaps I had not the influence over Helena which John Vere supposed; if it were so, no effort of mine, no self-denial which I might achieve, could possibly avail anything. Still, if it were God's will, I longed now, more than for anything else, to be useful to Helena; and as I thought of her sweetness and beauty, my heart went out towards her, and I loved her as I could love no other woman on earth. That she was my rival I remembered my unconscious rival, to whose share had fallen the treasure which I had once weakly supposed might be mine; but it did not embitter me against her, and earnestly I prayed that whatever

d

pain I might be called to endure, whatever sacrifice of self it might become my duty to make, whatever weak regret might, from time to time, disturb the serenity I hoped to attain, nothing might ever cause me to regard this innocent, lovely girl with aught but the purest and most abiding affection. To know my work, and to do it in some measure worthily-to see clearly the way I ought to go, and to follow as I was led-was now my most anxious desire. Already the fierce fire of tribulation was doing its work-I was growing out of myself; I was willing to trust my future with God; I was learning, though as yet only in a rudimentary form, some of those great and blessed lessons which our heavenly Father teaches us in the day of affliction.

I rose up comforted and strong at heart, for I thought I had gained the victory. And so for the hour I had; but presently I discovered, that it is not one battle that makes one a conquerer on life's rough field : again and again comes the shock of war; once more, and yet once more, one is called from the tent of repose to arise and arm, and address oneself with redoubled vigour to the conflict. Ah! such a victory as 1 had to gain is never the work of a day; ever and anon the old enemies arise, as if they had never been beaten ; and as time wears on, new foes are added to the serried ranks against which we are bound to prevail; and new fears disquiet the heart, and new difficulties arise, and new pangs have to be endured. Only at last, in the end, the conquest will be won-won in His almighty name who giveth strength evermore to those who trust in Him, and believe that under His banners alone the battles of the human soul can be triumphantly fought.

But as yet I saw little of the coming conflict. God was merciful in that He hid from my eyes the lonely path that lay before me.

I went down stairs to breakfast, very much to the surprise of my friends, who had agreed to consider me an invalid for that day, at least; and I think Miss Joanna was fairly puzzled at the cheerful face I presented, and began to imagine that nothing beyond a little physical depression had been my ailment ou the previous evening. This was as I wished it to be my secret was one that must be kept inviolably; duty as well as self-respect demanded it, and if this must be, it was most important that no one should at the very outset divine aught of that which it was my desire to conceal.

"Really, Evelyn, you are charming this morning," said Miss Capel, putting on her spectacles the better to inspect my countenance ; "Joauna said she was sure you were going to have influenza."

"I thought so myself last night," I replied, "for I really felt very unwell; but I have slept well, and this morning I have no symptom of a cold. I am anxious to set to work: I have been idle for nearly three months, and I have the plan of a new book in my head; I am going, I Lope, to be very industrious."

Quite right, my dear, quite right," assented Miss Capel, "honest